


on ethical consumption and vampirism

by hedgebitch



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Less Than You'd Expect In A Story About Vampires, Vampires Are Closer To Actual Vampires This Time Around, Very Loosely Implied Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-23 15:46:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16161971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedgebitch/pseuds/hedgebitch
Summary: Contrary to popular belief, Rosalie's biggest beef with Edward isn't that he rejected her or whatever. It's that it's been—how many years?—and he still won't shut up about ethics.orThe prologue to a fix-it fic I'll never write wherein the Cullens are just a hint more vampiric.





	on ethical consumption and vampirism

**Author's Note:**

> i don't have the energy for a full rewrite, but here's a vague start. this really only sets up undercurrents of manipulation and selfish/malicious intent beneath the original plot, but as the story (hypothetically) moves on, i see it taking on a lot more characteristics of classic vamp lit and veering sharply away from canon in that regard

Even in her hunting gear, Rosalie is disinclined to sit down on the grass outside the house, still heavy with morning dew. Instead, she stands, lets herself turn from being to statue, and waits.

The others return from the traditional pre-school year hunt with a gentle lethargy, or, well, with as much lethargy as is possible while running at roughly a hundred miles an hour. Edward is second to return; had they left at the same time, he’d surely have beaten her, but, well. The world’s never played fair—why should Rosalie?

Alice finishes her game of tag with Emmett by sending him careening across the lawn and into Rosalie, who huffs as haughtily as she can manage while she waits impatiently for Carlisle to bring up the rear, deep in some boring philosophical debate with Jasper, and moving s l o w l y.

“What are we all doing out here?” he asks when he finally notices the traffic jam, glancing pointedly at the morning sun.

“Keys,” Rosalie and Esme say at the same time, but Esme fills hers with all the dreamy implications of a “darling” and Rosalie fills hers with poison.

“Of course,” he says smoothly, as if he’s forgotten that particular smile paired with that little glint in his eyes has no effect on those already infected with the venom dripping from his teeth. He unlocks the front door with a promise to have the copies made by the time they’re out of school.

The magnets she rearranged on the fridge before leaving still say, “remember your last names this time, idiots,” and Rosalie, who enters the house first, bites back a smile as Emmett bursts into laughter, not eager to imply that she’s at all happy with current circumstances.

Their Vermont residency had been a short one. 

Edward rolls his eyes at Rosalie—who has long known that there’s no keeping secrets from Professor X, and isn’t too bothered by his pompous bullshit, just this once. Not when there’s bigger things to be bothered about—bigger things meaning Alice dragging Rosalie away to the bathroom to coat her face in everything trendy for 14 year olds.

It’s a well-known, if not well-documented, fact that Rosalie hates starting over.

~~~

School is rough for everyone it seems. Jasper is still having a hard time not going apeshit and devouring everyone in his field of sight, Emmett still hates not making friends with every single person in his, Alice forgot to bring LipSmackers keychains, and Edward is Edward.

And then there’s Rosalie’s day, filled with the same vile, lusty looks as ever—not that she complains to anyone about it, not at lunch, not in the car, not at home, not ever. 

Esme always just pets her hair lovingly, longingly, wishing she could occupy herself with something other than bookclub, and in her envy, forgets what it’s really like for Rosalie, forgets what exactly brought her so-called daughter to her.

All of them, they all forget. Edward, the only one of her clan still aware that their existence is designer torment, is too consumed by morality to even notice his sister’s thoughts, to even pick up on the whispers that never seem to leave her peripheral. 

If she were to tell her story to an outsider, Rosalie likes to think, they’d probably end up with the misconception that she wants to be human. But what she really yearns for, above all else, is to be hideous, to be blessed like a gorgon rather than confined to a hellish half-life.

Carlisle has lived so long, he has forgotten their curse is not a gift. He speaks with so much admiration of Rosalie’s resolve, of how without any “extraordinary power” she has refrained from drinking human blood, but he has never considered the simplest option:

Logistically speaking, killing humans just isn’t that practical.

~~~

A little over a year later isn’t a ton of time for someone who’s existed since 1915, but jesus fucking christ does it feel like forever. Edward gets another one of those wild mood-swings where just when everyone thought he’d finally accepted his fate, some puny human ups and asks him out, and suddenly he’s all “we’re monsters god hates us blah blah blah” again.

Even Esme agrees this time—he’s the worst. She still admonishes Emmett’s crude joke about a century of sexual repression, of course, but she doesn’t deny that perhaps Edward’s failure to enjoy the uh, more human urges of immortality, might be holding him back emotionally. 

Jasper, who easily suffers the most from Edward’s dumb bullshit what with the whole feeling-his-constant-crushing-guilt thing, is the first to suggest that maybe he requires a gentle shove in the right direction.

“And remind me again how well it went the last time Saint Carlisle turned a dying human to make Edward an eternal mate?” Rosalie is quick to counter, not without a general degree of animosity.

(Emmett, who, having already been emotionally if not physically excommunicated from the family-minus-Edward-and-Carlisle meeting, has nothing left to lose, mutters something that definitely contains the word “cucked.”)

“Well, maybe,” Esme starts, then looks to Alice, instead. So whatever it is she’s thinking, she doesn’t want the blame for saying.  
Alice complies and fills in the gaps for those around who can’t see the future or read minds or do anything fucking useful at all, it feels like. 

“...Maybe if our selection pool weren’t limited to the sick and dying…” 

“And how exactly,” Jasper reminds her. “Do you plan on proposing this scheme to the good doctor?”

And now she sees. She sees how to make it work—how to embrace the monster in her just a little more, how to finally show Edward exactly who their lives are a hell for.

“Emmett,” she says. “Darling,” she adds, more for the diabolical pleasure of the ice across her tongue than for effect. “Why don’t you tell us all about that girl? That steak you gobbled up in South Dakota?” 

Confused he shares—shares about her scent, about how quickly he devoured her, and she watches the realization click into Jasper’s eyes when he hears the word “pheromones.”

Alice straightens out when the story comes to its close. 

“There’s someone,” she says. “A new girl. I hadn’t—I never looked before. But—but this could work.”

Solemn conviction hangs in the air.

“Oh,” Alice says. “Oh, this could really work.”

**Author's Note:**

> based off [this](https://sweaterbella.tumblr.com/post/178435518276/is-there-a-twilight-fix-it-fic-out-there-that) post. hmu on tumblr @[sweaterbella](https://sweaterbella.tumblr.com/) if you wanna insult me or talk headcanons


End file.
